


Shots Both Cheap and Foul

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Basketball, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Clark makes Bruce play basketball. Bruce gets even.





	Shots Both Cheap and Foul

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Summer Games."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Sep. 24th, 2008.

“Clark, it’s hot. Let’s go inside.” Bruce wiped sweat away from his forehead as if it were an arduous task.

“You’re only upset because you’re losing.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t played this game in twenty years. Considering that and my lack of superspeed, I think I’m holding my own.”

Clark just grinned at him. “You are. Really.”

Bruce glared. “Give me the ball.”

They continued their game of one-on-one, dripping sweat on the court Bruce had built when Dick was young. Clark wasn’t sure how much use Dick had gotten out of it, but he’d been looking forward to bringing Bruce out here for a game for ages. Clark had played basketball as a kid, liking not having to worry about too much physical contact, and also there wasn’t a lot of expensive equipment to buy. But he hadn’t been able to play much as an adult, not knowing the right people and being afraid of being too graceful for klutzy Clark Kent.

However, it was currently a beautiful July Saturday in Gotham, Bruce somehow didn’t have any sort of work to do, and Clark had convinced him to play a game. Bruce did indeed seem rusty at the sport, or just completely inexperienced, but Clark didn’t mind. The whole point was to just have fun, which he was.

Beating Bruce at something certainly helped.

Bruce went up for another shot, and Clark blocked it and was able to snag it in the air, and took the ball back out to the top of the key. He dribbled with his right hand as he thought about the next move he wanted to make. Deciding that the game was close enough to being over that he just wanted to win, he stepped back beyond the three-point line and took his shot. It went through the basket cleanly, cementing his win.

It was his third of the day.

“ _Now_ can we go in?” Bruce did look a little warm; he’d taken his shirt off some time ago, and his scarred skin was an almost-sunburned shade of pink. Clark had ditched his shirt, too, but he knew the sun would only make his skin golden.

“One more game.”

Bruce heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

He retrieved the ball and checked it to Bruce, who went in on Clark’s left then spun to the right. Clark accidentally grabbed him while reaching for the ball, and Bruce stopped. “Foul.”

“What? Since when have we been calling fouls?”

“Since now.”

“You are the most spoiled person ever.”

“Are you going to let me call it or not?”

“Fine.”

Clark stood back and let Bruce take his two shots. He missed the first one, but the second one fell through the basket after clanging against the rim. He checked the ball to Clark, who went to his right, dribbled the ball between his legs, and tried to go to his left, but Bruce pushed him.

Clark glared, and Bruce answered, “Sorry. Tripped.”

Yeah, right.

Something had clearly been started, because none of the next several shots were made cleanly. There was grabbing, tripping, charging, and Bruce even stepped on Clark’s foot once.

Clark made his foul shots after that one, and Bruce’s gaze was challenging as he checked the ball to him. Clark challenged him right back. Bruce lined up his shot and took it right there from the top of the key, then ran towards the basket to catch his own rebound.

In response, Clark reached out once Bruce had the ball and grabbed his ass. Bruce jumped and his shot went wide. He whirled on Clark. “That was definitely a foul.”

“If we were on the same team, it’d be a ‘congrats’ or ‘good job.’”

“They _pat_ each other, they don’t grope each other.”

“Would make it more interesting.”

Bruce just rolled his eyes, but it looked like he was trying not to smile. His first foul shot went in, but the second bounced off the backboard. Bruce ran next to him to try to get it, but Clark had longer arms and was about to grab the ball when Bruce cupped his hand around Clark’s groin and squeezed.

Clark dropped the ball, Bruce picked it up, and managed to sink his lay up.

“Foul.”

“I barely touched you!” That was a borderline-manic smile Bruce shot him.

“I’ll show you barely touching...” Clark lunged at Bruce with his superspeed, tackling the other man and rolling so they landed on the cement with Clark on the bottom. He pulled Bruce’s head down to kiss him, and Bruce was there to meet him.

The kiss was messy and hot and went straight to Clark’s cock as Bruce rubbed against him, their bodies slick with sweat. Clark carefully rolled them so he was on top, mindful of Bruce’s vulnerable skin on the rough surface of the court. He licked along Bruce’s neck, loving this, loving them both wearing nothing but shorts and sneakers out in the hot summer sun, alone but where anyone could see them.

Bruce was hard against him as he rubbed his cock along Clark’s, and Clark was very close to coming when Bruce rolled them over again.

And got up and walked away.

Clark stared, not sure what had just happened. “Where are you going?”

“I thought you wanted to play a game?”

“What?” Clark was too horny to think through Bruce’s goddamned mind games.

“We played your game, so I thought we could play mine. You’re clearly better at yours, and I believe I’m better at mine.” Bruce walked back towards him, unreadable smirk on his normally-handsome face. “I thought I’d make it a race to see who could come first, but then I decided I’d rather see who could go the longest without begging the other to let them finish.”

It was then Clark noticed that Bruce wasn’t even _hard_ anymore. He was using his biofeedback practice to fight his body’s needs. Son of a... Clark looked down at his own cock, where it was clearly still hard and poking out the top of his shorts. “Not fair. I didn’t know the rules.”

“And I don’t know how to play basketball.” Damnable smirk...

“You at least know the rules... I was going to be nice and rub aloe on your sunburn later.”

“You still can. It’s part of the game of who can last longest, you while touching me or me while being touched.”

“You’re a freak, you know that?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been told that, no.” He reached out a hand to help Clark up. “Come on, we still have to finish that last game of basketball.”

“Why?” Clark didn’t feel like playing anymore. “And what if I don’t want to play your game?”

“I’m not a quitter. Are you?”

 _Son_ of a... “No.”

“Then come on.” Clark stood, pulling a little harder on Bruce than necessary, but Bruce didn’t give him the satisfaction of leaning, let alone wincing.

“Fine. But maybe tomorrow we can play a game we’re both good at.”

“Like what?”

Clark shrugged. “There’s got to be something.”

“If not, we can make up our own game.”

“That works.”

Bruce picked up the basketball, but as he walked by Clark, Clark grabbed him around the waist and pulled him in close. He kissed him as aggressively as he could and rubbed his thigh between Bruce’s legs. Bruce pulled away as he protested, “You cheat.”

“So do you.”

“Then I guess we’re even.”

“Yup.”

They resumed the game, and Clark couldn’t help but notice Bruce’s body all over again. The glistening sweaty skin, the muscle underneath it, and did Bruce really need to bend over to tie his shoes that often? He was such a tease.

Despite Clark’s mind being in Bruce’s pants rather than the game, he still won. And this time when Bruce asked, “ _Now_ can we go inside?” Clark told him yes. It was his turn to tease Bruce.

It was another game he was pretty good at playing.


End file.
